People moved around her but she paid them as little heed as they usually paid her. She’d sat there, unseeing eyes fixed on the book before her, for hours; barely registering the increasingly frequent glances and mutterings of disapproval that gradually turned to concern.

Only when the butler diffidently suggested that she might want to get some rest did she note the lightening sky. She shook her head mutely then returned to staring at the page; she had nowhere to go.

At least here, in the purple parlour, she could pretend to be catching up on the studies she missed over the last couple of weeks. Outside, she had no excuse to avoid conversation.

How could things have changed so much in such a short time? Just over a day ago, she’d left Ryleen, optimistic that at least they would all soon be together again in their new home. It was too cruel. The sentence passed down to the Warlord was more harsh than she could ever have imagined.

Ryleen had been stripped of her rank, exiled, not just to the valley, but to isolation there…and worst of all, her right to raise the three orphans she’d adopted had been revoked. Some questioned whether a death sentence would have been kinder.

Yahsadin certainly thought so. Acting quickly, before everything had really sunk in for the rest of them, Ryleen’s adopted sister had returned to the valley, taken the children and left, making it clear that she would –never- give them up to the Orcs.

Primal…no, it was Warlord Sertah now; Chabat corrected her thought, had not been happy about this development. The spirit link became a riot of voices either demanding or begging for the return of the children before finally denouncing Yahsadin as a traitor; a dangerous, unstable element that caused nothing but trouble.

Yahs remained steadfast. Her strident thoughts insisted that they should do everything they threatened. Tell the Blood Pact she’d betrayed them; help them hunt her down, anything they wanted to ensure the Heritage remained intact. But she would not return the orphans.

And in the middle of all the chaos, Jimar had returned. Chabat had been stunned. What on Azeroth had brought him from his den in the Hinterlands to join them now? Then, with a pang, she’d noticed how much he’d changed. He looked older, more dangerous somehow…on reflection, she was glad he’d never looked her way.

If he wanted to ignore her, that was fine. It certainly saved her a lot of embarrassment so she’d ignored him right back once she was fairly sure that he was going to keep at it. Still, she’d been glad he’d offered to help Ryleen…even though she’d refused his offer.

The sense of despair had been almost too much to bear. Through all the trails the Heritage had gone through, Ryleen had always had hope, confident that she would find –some- way to get them through it. That was gone from her thoughts. No torture Archnazg had been able to inflict had been worse than this. They’d torn out her heart.

The Heritage would go on though and wasn’t that the point of Ryleen’s sacrifice? Chabat, blinked in bemusement as her vision became blurred. She hadn’t thought she had any tears left. A hand touched her head and she tried to jerk away but she recognised the feeling of the sleep spell as it took hold. Her tutor’s voice…had they sent for him?

Her lips quirked in a smile as they always did when she heard his human speech pronouncing her name but it soon faded as she relaxed and gave in to the spell. It was easier this way, she could forget it all for a few hours at least.

_________________"If we don't know where we belong, it'll make no difference from where we started"

(( No torg, Bats didn't use magic to help her sleep, her tutor did. He's a human in his late fifties and so, despite the fact that chabat towers over him (even though she's small for a troll of her age) he has grandfatherly feelings for her at times.

Yes, she's just so pathetic, even a human feels sorry for her ))

_________________"If we don't know where we belong, it'll make no difference from where we started"